


the shiny spoils piled higher every year

by sugarboat



Series: The Harbor is Yours [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Captivity, Jon's a siren for Reasons, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29211135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarboat/pseuds/sugarboat
Summary: Peter brings his husband home a present.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Series: The Harbor is Yours [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2144715
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	the shiny spoils piled higher every year

Peter has Elias blindfolded – a state which Elias is sure they must both be aware does little enough to obscure his vision. Or would do little enough, if he cared to flex himself a bit. 

The sight the Eye gives him is nearly second nature at this point. As integral to himself as breathing at times. An autonomous function he doesn’t need to think about to indulge in. It might actually be more challenging to not stress the meagre boundary Peter has provided. Elias does so out of respect for the effort Peter’s gone to. And a curiosity about just what manner of surprise his partner has in store for him. 

Gifts are something of specialty for Peter. Elias’ house is littered with them, after all. Trinkets from his travels. Esoteric pieces that Peter believed he would be interested in. Books pried from between the fingers of corpses, that once would have found a home among the collection of Jurgen Leitner. 

Gifts, reminders – things for Elias to look at in passing and feel the distance stretched between himself and Peter. Sometimes thoughtful, when that is what it would take to steal Elias’ breath and tighten like cords around his stomach and ribs. Sometimes careless, sometimes trash; all measures of Peter’s careful, loving cruelty, aligned with precision among the bookcases and shelves of Elias’ house. 

So he allows himself to yield to Peter’s whims. Allows a silky blindfold to be wound tight across his eyes and weigh against his lids. Limits himself to the hamstringed senses of physicality. Peter pressing himself flush to Elias’ backside, drawing his arms around him with a pleased, quiet murmur. The shock of sea-salt and wind chapped lips against his neck, the pleasant scratch of Peter’s beard. 

Elias is steered through his own apartments with Peter’s hands, heavy and cool, anchored onto his shoulders. 

“I think you’re really going to like this one, darling,” Peter tells him. 

“Is that so?” 

“It’s normally something I would let my crew have,” Peter confides. Which is not quite as inspiring as he’d perhaps thought it to be. “But, we caught this one and I thought you’d like to have it.” 

Something living, then. “I didn’t think the Tundra was a fishing vessel.”

“Only on very special occasions.” 

Peter’s hands slip down from his shoulders. Elias enjoys the way his attention is pulled to track their progress, down the cage of his ribs and to his waist. Settling around his hips. He can almost imagine how it looks, the pale of Peter’s fingers rubbing mindless patterns into their frontward curve.

It feels good. A sensation he’s very nearly forgotten to miss while Peter’s been away. 

“Honestly, it was almost more trouble than it’s worth,” Peter continues. 

They’ve come to a halt in the back lounge, Elias knows. A wide-open space designed for hosting guests, filled carefully with selected furniture arranged for ease of conversation. Sequestered down in a lower level of the house, which allows for its main draw – floor to ceiling, one of the walls is instead the glass edge of an aquarium. Large enough and deep enough to house the creatures Peter likes to pull out of the sea from time to time, and saddle Elias with their care. 

Not that Elias is complaining. It’s a bit inconsiderate, of course, but much of Peter is. And now that it’s been installed for a while, it practically cares for itself, barring some maintenance Elias never has to do himself. And it is a lovely thing, soothing to watch. Almost like white noise, a comforting baseline for Elias’ eyes to settle on while he opens other, more discerning eyes in other, more far-away places.

“I’m surprised to hear you didn’t throw it back overboard, then,” Elias comments. Blithe, and no doubt still betraying how Peter has pricked his curiosity, the anticipation for this moment swollen and hot. 

“I know when to exercise restraint,” Peter says. “The little thing bit me, if you can believe it. It has quite the mouth on it.” Elias makes a vague noise of sympathy and Peter chuckles, continues, “But, as I’m sure you must well be aware, nothing is too good for you, darling.” 

“You spoil me,” Elias replies, completely deadpan. 

“I really do, don’t I? Well, what do you say? Ready to see your new possession?” Peter’s fingers pluck at the knot of his blindfold. Peter’s lips against his neck are cool, the chill of his breath even more so. “I have been assured it’s rare enough to be all but priceless.” 

What, oh what, has Peter gotten him? Elias is vaguely annoyed at the interest Peter’s been able to drum up inside him, but he supposes that comes with the territory. It sends a shudder down his spine, too – that he’s allowed Peter to peer so deeply into him, to know him in so many small, meaningless ways. The sharp knife of intimacy, always wet with blood between them. 

“Please, Peter – whenever you’re ready.” 

“At my discretion, is it? You should know better, Elias. I’d keep you tied up and blindfolded in my bed the rest of your life if it was my decision.” 

It’s a tempting thought, and Elias allows himself the indulgence of imagining it. The dull burn of rope around his wrists, eating ragged lines into his skin whenever he struggled. The unnatural quiet of Peter’s quarters. The sharp, visceral thrill when that quiet is broken, when Peter touches him without warning, Elias stripped of his sight and all the more defenseless for it. Thanks in no small part to the Lonely, no doubt, Peter excels at play with sensory deprivation – sometimes Elias can’t even hear him breathing in the same room, can’t tell if he’s been truly left alone to pant and whine and shiver in the aftershocks of touch. 

Elias turns his head to the side, to brush their lips together. And this, of course, is the sweetest turn of the knife: “No, you wouldn’t.” 

Peter laughs in response, and pulls the knot of his blindfold free. 

At first glance it appears that Peter has simply bound and drowned someone in his aquarium. But, no, that isn’t the case, Elias sees, watching as the thing shifts and struggles in the heavy chains anchoring it to the bottom of the tank. It’s tied tightly enough that even with all its restless movements, Elias is able to take in the finer details of it. 

Pale skin on its upper half, with almost sickly undertones to it. Dark hair that’s cut surprisingly short for what Elias has seen of similar creatures before this one. Dark, furious eyes when it looks to them, and it’s a shame, but Elias can’t see much of its face around the muzzle clamping its jaw shut. The gills on the sides of its neck are more spiked and frilled than Elias has seen before, their insides an appealing pinkish-lilac flush whenever they flutter open and closed. 

Its scaling starts just above its hips, a sharp cresting pattern. Finned spines come off its forearms, flare around its hips like accent points, and Elias can see why Peter thought to bring it to him as a gift. The pattern of its scales, down the long and sinuous tail (another oddity, how flexible and twisting it is, almost snakelike with how it spirals) is iridescent and shimmering, rich blues and greens that flash purple and yellow with the light, in a pattern reminiscent of peacock feathers, which is to say – reminiscent of eyes. The fins at the end of its tail are long and willowing, matching the pair on its hips and arms. 

Elias has come up nearly to the glass, now. This close he can see the leftover ligature marks from Peter’s delicate care during its shipping. There are tears in the fine, thin membranes of its fins, ragged at the ends. But overall, it appears to be intact, which is more than Elias can say for some of the unfortunate things Peter has taken from the sea before. It flinches back when Peter approaches at Elias’ side, before its fins flare out to billow around it.

“Cute, isn’t it?” Peter sounds almost fond, for all of his previous complaints. He raps his knuckles against the glass and Elias watches the flutter and twitch of his new pet’s fins before he intervenes to guide Peter’s hand away. 

“It is a unique specimen,” Elias says. “What species is it, exactly?”

“Who knows?” Peter replies with a shrug. “One offshoot of those mer-things or another. Found this one above the water, if you can believe it. Practically begging to be snatched up, the way it was displaying itself.”

“I’m sure.” 

“You mock, but just you wait until it comes slithering out of its tank and starts lounging about on your countertops. Couldn’t pay a girl to arch her back more prettily.” 

Elias snorts, his eyes still on the creature in question. “And how it is meant to come slithering out? You’ve had it sunk to the bottom of my aquarium.” 

“I believe I mentioned, it’s a real piece of work. My advice is to let it tire itself out before you try to reel it up and set it free.”

“I assume this is your professional opinion on the matter.” 

“Of course it is,” Peter says easily. He shifts so that he’s leaning with his back against the aquarium wall, and Elias watches his pet jerk in its bounds like it could lunge itself after him. “Did you want my personal opinion as well?” 

“Don’t I always?” Elias asks. He reaches out to brush his fingers over the hair at Peter’s temple. Allows his touch to drift down the slope of his jaw. 

“Hardly.” Peter gestures towards him, holds a hand out for Elias and then draws him steadily inward. The creature in the tank is watching them. 

“Indulge me this time, then, and share your insights.” 

Another annoyance, how easy everything is, how they come together. How Peter’s hands fit against him, stroking over him. How Elias still knows how to pull and shift Peter’s clothing to get to smooth, pale skin.

“Oh, you think I’m insightful now, do you?” Peter murmurs, words strung between kisses that are more like bites to Elias’ mouth. “My personal opinion is that its anatomy isn’t so different from anything else I’ve caught and played with. And once you’ve got it exhausted, I’d be more than happy to get you acquainted with it as well.” 

Elias gives a thoughtful hum, luxuriating in the rough grope of Peter’s broad hands down to his ass. “I imagine you’ve already made some rather negative associations with the creature. I’m not sure I want to be tarred with the same brush just yet.” 

“You’ll be making your own _negative associations_ soon enough, I’m sure.” Peter’s grin is toothful and sharp. 

“Nonetheless, I’d rather navigate my own than whatever damage you’ve already caused it.” 

“Of course.” They’ve crept steadily closer together. Peter’s all but pinned against the tank, and Elias allows him to adjust the angle of his hips until they’re flush with one another. Peter’s hard in his slacks, bucks his hips forward to grind against Elias’ pelvis. “I bet you just want the pleasure of discovery all on your own; some little kink gifted straight from the Eye.” 

It’s difficult to deny what’s arguably true. Vast creatures don’t hold much interest for Elias, generally speaking – he’s seen merfolk before, the way depth and distance and drowning echo throughout them. This creature is no different in that regard – in the messy confluence of its emotions is despair at being caged, at being bound and trapped – but there’s something else in there too. Familiar, and intriguing. Elias doubts Peter has even realized how particular of a creature he’s brought him. 

Some of its fight has drained, distracted as it is watching them, but when Elias glances back to it around Peter’s shoulder it bares its teeth behind the lattice of its muzzle, thrashing about in its wires and shackles again. Elias imagines it limp and docile instead. Baring the long length of its neck after Elias shucks its bindings free. He watches the delicate flutter of its gills as it breathes and imagines the writhe of its serpentine tail if he slipped his tongue between those folds to the plush, wet insides he gets brief flickers of. 

“My my,” Peter murmurs against his ear, grinding the length of his cock against Elias’. “And what are you thinking about?” 

“The pleasure of discovery,” Elias replies, swallowing down Peter’s answering laugh. There’s a rush that comes with this; with biting blood into Peter’s smile, pushing through the swathe of fog to affect him. To bring him here, fully, present in a way that his god must chafe at. “But I believe you’re right. That will have to wait until it’s more… amenable, than current.” 

“All that leaves is the meanwhile.” 

“Quite.” Elias brushes fingers through Peter’s hair. Spares a flick of a glance towards the creature watching them, enjoying the little thrill their abrupt eye contact sends crawling down his spine. “I thought I might spend it showing some gratitude.”

“Elias Bouchard, showing gratitude – I must have done something very good to have you so properly appreciative for a change.” 

“I’m always appreciative of you, Peter,” Elias says, before setting about expressing said appreciation.

It’s later than Elias would have cared for by the time he’s able to slip away from Peter and his attentions. Not exactly surprising, and not something that Elias would usually find disagreeable. But tonight, he wouldn’t put it past Peter to have drawn things out between them, knowing how Elias would be eager to examine his latest acquisition. 

He’s kept an eye on it, regardless. Watching its futile struggles – Elias is familiar enough with Peter’s knot skills to know the creature is well and truly entangled. Once they’d left (having left a not insubstantial number of their own clothing littered in their wake) its thrashing had become less overt. Seeking through its ropes and chains for weak points, scratching at the joists of lock hinges. 

Peter was right. It’s well and truly exhausted itself by now. Floating in the tank and looking almost ethereal now that the tension is drained from it. Its body is still held at strange angles from the chains and razor thin wire it’s been bound in, and in the flow of water around it, Elias can watch streamers of dark blood swirl sluggishly from where it’s injured itself in its struggles. 

Elias is tempted to keep watching it. Its dreams are fitful things. Nightmares that pique Elias’ interest to their origins. But he wants to see more than that. The startle of its gaze. The rest of its face, hidden behind its muzzle for now. He doesn’t think it’s asking too much to see the entirety of his new gift. 

He doesn’t go down to the lounge again. Instead he’s on the ground level, where the top entrance of the aquarium is. The surface of the water is a calm chop, almost flush with the marble floors that lead to the tank. If what Peter said is true – and Elias has his doubts, always, well-founded as they are – Elias thinks idly that he might have to get some perches for his little pet to lounge itself on. After its proven able to behave itself. 

The end of its chain is coiled near the water, connected to a crank to haul his poor pet to the surface. Not the most elegant of solutions, but Elias hopes that can be forgiven by the fact that he’s going to be freeing it. From its chains, if not from what it undoubtedly feels is its cage. Still, he turns the crank on, thankful that it’s an automated process as he watches the chain go taut and then start to jerk as his pet awakens. 

It’s long minutes before the surface of the water begins to be disturbed. The chain has been attached to some of the bindings crisscrossing the creature’s back, hauling it up almost as if it’s been scruffed at the back of its neck. Unfortunate, but it can’t be helped, and Elias is grateful that it’s mostly exhausted by the time it breaches the surface, its long tail briefly slipping out of the water in a roiling wave, like an image of ancient sea serpents.

It’s even lovelier up close, scowling at Elias with bright eyes around damp hair. There’s still a length of chain to go, but it’s within arms’ reach with Elias knelt at the edge of the water. It glares at him when he go to touch it, jerking back as if it could somehow avoid his fingers. It can’t, of course, and Elias enjoys the soft cool of its skin beneath his touch. Its gills flutter, tugged above the water, when Elias trails along the upper line of its muzzle digging into its cheek. 

“I’d like to take this off of you, if you’ll let me,” Elias says. It glares at him in response. “If you can behave yourself.”

A sneer, then, as if it isn’t completely at the mercy of Elias’ whims and wants. Almost endearing, and Elias can’t help a small smile as he hooks a finger around the metal lattice of the muzzle and draws it closer by that. 

“If you’d prefer, I can send you back down just as you are, and try again tomorrow night.” 

It _hisses_ at him. Elias takes a moment to comb through the wet strands of its hair – recently shorn, perhaps by Peter’s crew – brush the length out of its face. He trails his touch down to its jawline, to the stretch of its neck that peeks above the waterline. He pets over its gills, satisfied with how they quiver beneath his touch, how tender they feel when he strokes against their lay and ruffles them. Gratified by the way his pet shudders and flinches away from the touch.

“Well,” Elias says, watching how its gaze snaps to his face, “If that’s the way you feel.” 

It looks at him blankly a moment and then its eyes widen as Elias releases it, and oh, it does not look pleased when he lets slack on the line again and the weight of its chains start to drag it, nicely bound, back to the bottom of the tank.


End file.
